Blessed, and Damned
Mar. 18th, 2022 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apachefirecatTitle: Blessed, and Damned
Dedicated To: My blessing, my Mistah J <3 <3 <3
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Spike/Buffy
Rating: NC-17/AO
Summary: Spike knows he's blessed, even while he'll always remain damned to be unworthy.
Word Count: 1163
Written For:nekid_spike: Wild Thing
Warnings: Future Fic
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
They think she's the good Slayer, and she is. But they also think that she's the controlled Slayer, the one who can do no wrong, the one who succumbs to all the rules of society to which she's expected to hold. Spike knows better. Underneath Buffy's calm, controlled exterior, the one she shows to her precious Scoobies and Watcher, beats the heart of a truly wild thing, wilder than any animal, more beautiful than any other primal force he's ever witnessed, and more powerful too. She is an awesome force to behold. Sometimes Spike just likes to stand and watch her as he's doing now.
He senses another Vamp rushing up on him, and drives his hand back, staking him without turning. His yellow eyes don't flicker or even pull away from Buffy's golden light for so much as the slightest moment. He stays rivetted by her beauty, by her power, by her feral nature. He's still standing, just watching her, when she finally pauses to look around. Dust rains all about her in a cloud that would, at one time, have frightened him, though he'd never have admitted it, and she frowns, seemingly truly puzzled, as she realizes there are no oncoming enemies. Her lovely, luscious lips pull down into a pout that immediately makes him hard. "What? No more?"
"What can I say, pet?" he questions, finally moving forward. "You already dusted them all."
She pouts up at him. "You didn't help."
"Nah. Not much anyway." He shakes his head. "Sometimes," he cups her face in his hands and draws his thumbs tenderly across her soft cheeks, "I just like to watch."
He doesn't have to make the first move. She's still breathing hard, still aching for more action. Her chest is heaving, but his eyes still aren't drawn to her breasts. He's too busy watching her beautiful eyes and face, too busy witnessing the true reflections of her soul. This is the woman he loves: the powerhouse, the wild beast who is so determined to do everything right, the heroine who beats all other heroes. This is the woman he's so damn lucky to call his.
Buffy surges forward, and before her stake rattles across the cemetery ground, she's already kissing him... and backing him slowly but forcibly up. He lets her take control, thriving in the moment of being able to completely surrender to this incredible warrioress. She backs him until he can move no further, kissing him passionately, hungrily, intensely... With his back against somebody else's mausoleum, Spike has nowhere else to go, but his lover's far from done. She jumps into the air and wraps her legs around him. They aren't especially long -- Buffy is only 5'4" after all -- but oh, does she know how to use them!
All thoughts are quickly fleeing from Spike's mind, but still he knows how incredibly lucky he is and how amazed he is by this woman and even more so by the fact that she is his. At long last, she's done baking, and he's the lucky one who she chose! Even with fighting to regain his own soul, he'd never truly thought she would choose him. Yet she had. She had shocked everybody by choosing him over the Great Poof, and there wasn't a night that went by that Spike didn't thank his lucky stars, whatever Gods might actually smile upon a lowly Demon, and of course most of all Buffy herself for choosing him.
He's the one who's moaning tonight when Buffy suddenly lifts her mouth from his. "Pet -- " he starts but cannot complete the thought. His mind is mush. His body, as is every inch of his very being, is completely hers to do with however she chooses. She could stake him in this moment, and he would still die a happy man. He'll always be happy as long as he has her, and no matter how damned his soul might be, he'll always be eternally blessed by her love.
"Hush," she demands as her hands rip at his jeans. She doesn't have fangs -- he'd never dare to think of turning her --, but it's her very mortal teeth that bite into the flesh at his neck. She's brought him, his jeans are around his ankles, but she's fighting with her own. He moves to help her, but she pins his arms behind his back against the mausoleum. She jumps down, strips off her own boots and jeans in record time, and then jumps back on top of him... and on top of his erection.
Her tongue slides into his mouth as she jumps up and down her. Faith had thought she was a ride. So had Drusilla, Darla, and of course Angelus. But no one could match Buffy's speed, prowess, and very raw power. Spike lets her take control tonight. He lets her rule his body as she already does his heart and soul every moment of his life or, rather, existence. For as great as she makes him feel, he still knows he isn't alive.
He is still very much aware that he can never deserve her, never be good enough for her, never be alive enough for her, but he also can not possibly love her any more or be any more blessed if his heart actually did beat. No one could, living, dead, or otherwise. No one will ever be able to deserve Buffy, but he's so lucky, so utterly and completely blessed, to have her as the other part of his soul. He'd thought, long ago, that Drusilla was that other half, but he'd never been whole until Buffy. He'd never known before her what it meant to truly be loved, or to truly love. She has taught him that and so very much more. He is everything that he is because of this woman currently wrapped around him, and most of all, he is blessed because of and loved by her.
Lifting her mouth from his again, Buffy orders, "Bite me," and he does so immediately. She sighs, her eyes closing with relish, as he sinks his fangs deeply into her tender flesh. He pumps harder into her as well, but Spike knows the entire time that no matter how deeply he dives into Buffy, he'll never have enough and will never be able to penetrate her as deeply as she has him. The woman is in his very soul, that soul he fought so hard years ago to win back and never would have attempted to if not for her and his endless struggle to somehow, by some miracle that he knows he'll never attain, be worthy of having her, of loving her, and being loved by her. As they scream together in ecstasy, Spike thanks every power he's ever known and most of all her for the endless blessing that is simply having her in his arms, in his heart, and of course, though least of all, in his bed!
The End
Dedicated To: My blessing, my Mistah J <3 <3 <3
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Spike/Buffy
Rating: NC-17/AO
Summary: Spike knows he's blessed, even while he'll always remain damned to be unworthy.
Word Count: 1163
Written For:
nekid_spike: Wild ThingWarnings: Future Fic
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
They think she's the good Slayer, and she is. But they also think that she's the controlled Slayer, the one who can do no wrong, the one who succumbs to all the rules of society to which she's expected to hold. Spike knows better. Underneath Buffy's calm, controlled exterior, the one she shows to her precious Scoobies and Watcher, beats the heart of a truly wild thing, wilder than any animal, more beautiful than any other primal force he's ever witnessed, and more powerful too. She is an awesome force to behold. Sometimes Spike just likes to stand and watch her as he's doing now.
He senses another Vamp rushing up on him, and drives his hand back, staking him without turning. His yellow eyes don't flicker or even pull away from Buffy's golden light for so much as the slightest moment. He stays rivetted by her beauty, by her power, by her feral nature. He's still standing, just watching her, when she finally pauses to look around. Dust rains all about her in a cloud that would, at one time, have frightened him, though he'd never have admitted it, and she frowns, seemingly truly puzzled, as she realizes there are no oncoming enemies. Her lovely, luscious lips pull down into a pout that immediately makes him hard. "What? No more?"
"What can I say, pet?" he questions, finally moving forward. "You already dusted them all."
She pouts up at him. "You didn't help."
"Nah. Not much anyway." He shakes his head. "Sometimes," he cups her face in his hands and draws his thumbs tenderly across her soft cheeks, "I just like to watch."
He doesn't have to make the first move. She's still breathing hard, still aching for more action. Her chest is heaving, but his eyes still aren't drawn to her breasts. He's too busy watching her beautiful eyes and face, too busy witnessing the true reflections of her soul. This is the woman he loves: the powerhouse, the wild beast who is so determined to do everything right, the heroine who beats all other heroes. This is the woman he's so damn lucky to call his.
Buffy surges forward, and before her stake rattles across the cemetery ground, she's already kissing him... and backing him slowly but forcibly up. He lets her take control, thriving in the moment of being able to completely surrender to this incredible warrioress. She backs him until he can move no further, kissing him passionately, hungrily, intensely... With his back against somebody else's mausoleum, Spike has nowhere else to go, but his lover's far from done. She jumps into the air and wraps her legs around him. They aren't especially long -- Buffy is only 5'4" after all -- but oh, does she know how to use them!
All thoughts are quickly fleeing from Spike's mind, but still he knows how incredibly lucky he is and how amazed he is by this woman and even more so by the fact that she is his. At long last, she's done baking, and he's the lucky one who she chose! Even with fighting to regain his own soul, he'd never truly thought she would choose him. Yet she had. She had shocked everybody by choosing him over the Great Poof, and there wasn't a night that went by that Spike didn't thank his lucky stars, whatever Gods might actually smile upon a lowly Demon, and of course most of all Buffy herself for choosing him.
He's the one who's moaning tonight when Buffy suddenly lifts her mouth from his. "Pet -- " he starts but cannot complete the thought. His mind is mush. His body, as is every inch of his very being, is completely hers to do with however she chooses. She could stake him in this moment, and he would still die a happy man. He'll always be happy as long as he has her, and no matter how damned his soul might be, he'll always be eternally blessed by her love.
"Hush," she demands as her hands rip at his jeans. She doesn't have fangs -- he'd never dare to think of turning her --, but it's her very mortal teeth that bite into the flesh at his neck. She's brought him, his jeans are around his ankles, but she's fighting with her own. He moves to help her, but she pins his arms behind his back against the mausoleum. She jumps down, strips off her own boots and jeans in record time, and then jumps back on top of him... and on top of his erection.
Her tongue slides into his mouth as she jumps up and down her. Faith had thought she was a ride. So had Drusilla, Darla, and of course Angelus. But no one could match Buffy's speed, prowess, and very raw power. Spike lets her take control tonight. He lets her rule his body as she already does his heart and soul every moment of his life or, rather, existence. For as great as she makes him feel, he still knows he isn't alive.
He is still very much aware that he can never deserve her, never be good enough for her, never be alive enough for her, but he also can not possibly love her any more or be any more blessed if his heart actually did beat. No one could, living, dead, or otherwise. No one will ever be able to deserve Buffy, but he's so lucky, so utterly and completely blessed, to have her as the other part of his soul. He'd thought, long ago, that Drusilla was that other half, but he'd never been whole until Buffy. He'd never known before her what it meant to truly be loved, or to truly love. She has taught him that and so very much more. He is everything that he is because of this woman currently wrapped around him, and most of all, he is blessed because of and loved by her.
Lifting her mouth from his again, Buffy orders, "Bite me," and he does so immediately. She sighs, her eyes closing with relish, as he sinks his fangs deeply into her tender flesh. He pumps harder into her as well, but Spike knows the entire time that no matter how deeply he dives into Buffy, he'll never have enough and will never be able to penetrate her as deeply as she has him. The woman is in his very soul, that soul he fought so hard years ago to win back and never would have attempted to if not for her and his endless struggle to somehow, by some miracle that he knows he'll never attain, be worthy of having her, of loving her, and being loved by her. As they scream together in ecstasy, Spike thanks every power he's ever known and most of all her for the endless blessing that is simply having her in his arms, in his heart, and of course, though least of all, in his bed!
The End
